With female fairies will his tomb be haunted,
And worms will not come to thee.

Aro. With fairest flowers,

Whilft fummer lafts, and I live here, Fidele,
I'll fweeten thy fad grave. Thou shalt not lack
The flow'r that's like thy face, pale primrofe; nor
The azur'd hare-bell, like thy veins; no, nor
The leaf of eglantine, which not to flander,
Out-fweeten'd not thy breath. The ruddock + would
With charitable bill, oh bill fore-fhaming
Those rich-left heirs that let their fathers ly
Without a monument! bring thee all this;
Yea, and furr'd mofs befides, when flow'rs are none,
To winter-ground thy corfe.-

Guid. Pr'ythee, have done;

And do not play in wench-like words with that
Which is fo ferious. Let us bury him,

And not protract with admiration what
Is now due debt.To th' grave.
Arv. Say, where fhall's lay him?
Guid. By good Euriphile, our mother.
Aro. Be't fo:

And let us, Paladour, though now our voices
Have got the mannifh crack, fing him to th' ground,
As, once, our mother; ufe like note and words,
Save that Euriphile must be Fidele.

Guid. Cadwal,

I cannot fing; I'll weep, and word it with thee;
For notes of forrow out of tune, are worle
Than priests and fanes that lie.

Ary. We'll peak it then.

Bel. Great griefs I fee medicine the lefs; for Cloten.
Is quite forgot. He was a Queen's fon, boys;
And though he came our enemy, remember,
He was paid for that: though mean and mighty,
Together, have one duft, yet Reverence, [rotting
That angel of the world, doth make diftinétion
Of place 'twixt high and low. Our foe was princely;
And though you took his life, as being our foe,
Yet bury him as a prince.

The ruddock is the redbreaft. John fon.
Q

VOL. IX.

Guid. Pray fetch him hither.

Therfites' body is as good as Ajax,

When neither are alive.

Arv. If you'll go fetch him,

We'll fay our fong the whilft. Brother, begin. Guid. Nay, Cadwal, we muft lay his head to th My father hath a reason for't.

Arv. 'Tis true.

Guid. Come on then, and remove him.
Arv. So, begin.

[eaft;

Guid. Fear no more the heat o' th' fun,
Nor the furious winter's rages;
Thou thy worldly task haft done,
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages.
Both golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-fweepers, come to duft.
Arv. Fear no more the frown o' th' great,
Thou art past the tyrant's ftroke;
Care no more to cloath and eat;
To thee the reed is, as the oak:
Both the fceptre, learning, phyfic, must
All follow this, and come to duft.
Guid. Fear no more the lightning-flash.

Arv.

Nor th' all-dreaded thunder-ftone. Guid. Fear not flander, cenfure rash.

Arv.

Thou haft finifi'd joy and moan.
Both. All lovers young, all lovers must
Confign to thee, and come to duft.

Guid. No exorcifer harm thee!
Arv.

Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Guid. Ghoft, unlaid, forbear thee!
Nothing ill come near thee!

Arv.
Both. Quiet confummation have,
And renowned be thy grave!

Enter Belarius, with the body of Cloten.

Guid. We've done our obfequies: come, lay him* down.

Bel. Here's a few flow'rs, but about midnight more; The herbs that have on them cold dew o' th' night, Are ftrewings fitt'st for graves.—Upon their facesYou were as flow'rs, now wither'd; even fo These herbelets fhall, which we upon you ftrow. Come on, away. Apart upon our knees.

-The ground that gave them first has them again: Their pleasure here is past, so is their pain. [Exeunt. Imogen awaking.

Imo. Yes, Sir; to Milford-haven which is the

ther?

-pray, how far thi

'Ods pittikins-can it be fix mile yet?
I've gone all night-faith I'll ly down and fleep.
But, foft! no bedfellow.-Oh gods and goddeffes!
[Seeing the body,
These flow'rs are like the pleafures of the world; :
This bloody man the care on't. -I hope I dream;..
For fo I thought I was a cave-keeper,

And cook to honeft creatures. But 'tis not fo;
'Twas but a bolt of nothing, fhot at nothing,
Which the brain makes of fumes. Our very eyes
Are fometimes like our judgments, blind. Good faith
I tremble ftill with fear; but if there be
Yet left in Heav'n as finall a drop of pity
As a wren's eye, fear'd gods! a part of it!
The dream's here ftill; ev'n when I wake it is
Without me as within me; not imagin'd, felt.
A headless man!-the garinents of Pofthumus?"
I know the shape of's leg, this is his hand,
His foot mercurial, his martial thigh,
The brawns of Hercules: but his jovial face
Murder in heaven?-how!-'tis gone!-Pifanio!-
All curfes madded Hecuba gave the Greeks,

And mine to boot, be darted on thee! thou,
'Twas thou, conspiring with that devil Cloten,
Haft here cut off my Lord. To write and read
Be henceforth treach'rous?-Damn'd Pifanio
Hath with his forged letters-damn'd Pifanio!
From this the braveft vessel of the world
Struck the main-top! oh Pofthumus, alas,
Where is thy head? where's that? ah me, where's
Pifanio might have kill'd thee at the heart, [that?
And left this head on. How should this be? Pifanio?
'Tis he and Cloten. Malice and luere in them
Have laid this woe here. Oh, 'tis pregnant, pregnant!
The drug he gave me, which he faid was precious,
And cordial to me, have I not found it
Murd'rous to th' fenfes? that confirms it home:
This is Pifanio's deed and Cloten's.

Oh!

Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood,
That we the horrider may feem to those

Which chance to find us. Oh, my Lord! my Lord!

Enter Lucius, Captains, and a Soothsayer. Capt. To them the legions garrifon'd in Gallia, After your will, have cross'd the fea, attending You here at Milford-haven; with your fhips They are in readiness.

Luc. But what from Rome?

Capt. The Senate hath ftirr'd up the confiners, And gentlemen of Italy, moft willing fpirits, That promife noble fervice; and they come Under the conduct of bold Iachimo,

Syenna's brother.

Luc. When expect you them?

Capt. With the next benefit o' th' wind.
Luc. This forwardness

Makes our hopes fait. Command our present num

bers

Be mufter'd; bid the captains look to't. Now, Sir, What have you dream'd of late of this war's purpofe Sooth. Laft night the very gods fhew'd me a vifion (I faft and pray'd for their intelligence).

I faw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, wing'd
From the fpungy fouth to this part of the weft,
There vanish'd in the fun-beams; which portends,
Unless my fins abufe my divination,

Success to the Roman host.

Luc. Dream often fo,

And never falfe!Soft, ho, what trunk is here
Without his top? the ruin fpeaks, that fometine
It was a worthy building. How! a page!-
Or dead, or fleeping on him? but dead rather:
For Nature doth abhor to make his couch
With the defunct, or fleep upon the dead.
Let's fee the boy's face.

Capt. He's alive, my Lord.

Young? [one,

Luc. He'll then inftruct us of this body. Inform us of thy fortunes, for, it feems, They crave to be demanded: who is this Thou mak'ft thy bloody pillow? who was he, That, otherwife than noble Nature did,

4

Hath alter'd that good picture? what's thy interest In this fad wreck? how came it, and who is it? What art thou?"

Imo. I am nothing; or if not,

Nothing to be were better. This was my mafter,. A very valiant Briton and a good,

That here by mountaineers lyes flain: alas!

There are no more fuch mafters: I may wander
From east to occident, cry out for service,

Try many, and all good, ferve truly, never
Find fuch another mafter.

Luc. 'Lack, good youth!

Thou mov'it no less with thy complaining than
Thy master in bleeding: fay his name, good friend.
Imo. Richard du Champ. If I do lie, and do
No harm by it, though the gods hear, I hope [Afide,
They'll pardon it Say you, Sir? .

Luc Thy name?:

Imo. Fidele, Sir.

Luc. Thou doft approve thyself the very fame; Thy name well fits thy faith; thy faith thy name. Wilt take thy chance with me? I will not fay Thou shalt be fo well mafter'd, but, be fure,